Mad Delights Read online

  Table of Contents

  Legal Page

  Title Page

  Book Description

  Dedication

  Trademarks Acknowledgement

  Chapter One

  Chapter Two

  Chapter Three

  Chapter Four

  Chapter Five

  Chapter Six

  Chapter Seven

  Chapter Eight

  Chapter Nine

  Chapter Ten

  Chapter Eleven

  Chapter Twelve

  Chapter Thirteen

  Chapter Fourteen

  Chapter Fifteen

  Chapter Sixteen

  Chapter Seventeen

  Chapter Eighteen

  Chapter Nineteen

  Chapter Twenty

  Chapter Twenty-One

  Chapter Twenty-Two

  Epilogue

  New Excerpt

  About the Author

  Publisher Page

  Mad Delights

  ISBN # 978-1-78430-654-0

  ©Copyright Beth D. Carter 2015

  Cover Art by Posh Gosh ©Copyright July 2015

  Edited by Faith Bicknell-Brown

  Totally Bound Publishing

  This is a work of fiction. All characters, places and events are from the author’s imagination and should not be confused with fact. Any resemblance to persons, living or dead, events or places is purely coincidental.

  All rights reserved. No part of this publication may be reproduced in any material form, whether by printing, photocopying, scanning or otherwise without the written permission of the publisher, Totally Bound Publishing.

  Applications should be addressed in the first instance, in writing, to Totally Bound Publishing. Unauthorized or restricted acts in relation to this publication may result in civil proceedings and/or criminal prosecution.

  The author and illustrator have asserted their respective rights under the Copyright Designs and Patents Acts 1988 (as amended) to be identified as the author of this book and illustrator of the artwork.

  Published in 2015 by Totally Bound Publishing, Newland House, The Point, Weaver Road, Lincoln, LN6 3QN

  Totally Bound Publishing is a subsidiary of Totally Entwined Group Limited.

  Warning:

  This book contains sexually explicit content which is only suitable for mature readers. This story has a heat rating of Totally Burning and a Sexometer of 1.

  MAD DELIGHTS

  Beth D. Carter

  When violence sweeps through their town, the Men of Hell must figure out who’s after their club.

  Someone is watching Romeo Barrigan’s every move. Chloe Matsumoto’s favorite pastime is studying the Men of Hell Motorcycle Club’s president. Ever since he helped rescue her deaf cousin from the hands of a human-trafficking ring, Chloe has become fascinated with him and now wonders how she can repay him.

  Daxton Squire is the enforcer of the Men of Hell. He’s filled with self-loathing after failing to recognize the threat from the former club president. When he spots someone tailing Romeo, he vows to protect him at any cost. Only Dax didn’t expect to be so attracted to the little stalker.

  Violence sweeps through Bair, Nebraska, threatening the town and the club. Romeo has a lot on his plate. Not only does he have to figure out who’s after his club, he also has to determine how the hell he ended up in a ménage relationship—and keep those he loves safe from the menace.

  Dedication

  I have to give this one to my editor, Faith. Without her saying, “You got another one in ya?” I never would’ve dreamed up Chloe, and, I must say, she and Faith are pretty awesome.

  Also, a special big thanks to CR Moss. She is, without doubt, the best cheerleader a writer and friend can have.

  Ek elska þik, Eiríkr hinn rauði. Someday I will write about Eric the Red.

  Trademarks Acknowledgement

  The author acknowledges the trademarked status and trademark owners of the following wordmarks mentioned in this work of fiction:

  Skype: Skype

  Popsicle: Unilever N.V.

  Scary Spice: Spice Girls

  Mercedes: Daimler AG

  Harley SuperLow: H-D U.S.A., LLC

  McDonald’s: McDonald's International Property Company, Ltd.

  Ace Bandage: 3M

  Band-Aid: Johnson & Johnson

  Harley-Davidson: H-D U.S.A., LLC

  The Pelican Brief: Author, John Grisham; Publisher, Dell

  Viagra: Pfizer, Inc.

  The Expendables: Lionsgate UK Limited

  USB: Affymetrix, Inc.

  Oxycontin: Purdue Pharma L.P.

  Vicodin: Abbvie, Inc.

  AR-15s: Colt Defense, LLC.

  Chapter One

  Romeo stood alone in the club’s chapel staring at the tainted chair that Shepard had corrupted when he’d sat in it as President. Much like the club, the piece of furniture had a dirty air about it that reeked of greed. He wanted to burn the damn thing, or take an ax to it. Shepard was dead, but that didn’t stop the self-loathing pumping through Romeo every time he remembered Shepard’s smug face. He’d known the bastard was the wrong leader for the club, yet he had accepted the VP patch and decided to drown the bad vibes in drink, drugs and pussy.

  He ran his fingers over the large, oval table made of polished concrete that symbolized the unity of what the club should be. There was no fucking way to move it except by a crane. Wheels had always joked that it was their own version of the Round Table, taken from the mythology of King Arthur, and just like the legendary king, this table had its own share of treachery. Romeo had been with the club since he was thirteen, when Wheels had taken him under his wing to raise him as his own. The old biker had made sure Romeo could take apart an engine and put it back together, had taught him how to shoot straight but keep his nose clean. And, above all, Romeo had learned about loyalty.

  The Men of Hell now seemed to lack that basic yet utterly important quality. Other than Dax, his best friend and the enforcer of the club, he didn’t know whom to trust. So many issues needed to be addressed. He hadn’t a clue where to start, although the logical place would be weeding out those still loyal to Shepard’s memory. Some of Shepard’s followers had left, some had sworn they didn’t know about his double cross or how he’d stolen money from the club. Some still stuck around.

  “You okay?”

  Romeo jerked out of his morose thoughts and turned to see Daxton Squire standing in the doorway with his hands on his hips. They’d been through a lot of shit together. He hoped this brewing storm would simply be rocky waves they could ride out.

  “Yeah,” he replied. “I’m trying to come to terms with the realization that Shepard wasn’t working alone. I know of at least one brother who had to be in on his trafficking operation.”

  Dax sighed and Romeo saw his own feeling of resentment mirrored in his friend’s dark gaze.

  “I know. I came to the same conclusion.”

  “Either the books were doctored or there were two sets, I’m not sure which. And we have no clue as to how many others were involved.”

  “A Ponzi scheme turned sour,” Dax said. He pushed his tall, muscular body from the doorframe and took his seat at the table. “You gonna sit?”

  “Eventually. I just… It feels weird for me to sit in the chair, you know?”

  “You belong in that chair,” Dax insisted. “You should’ve had it when Wheels decided to step down.”

  “Maybe.” Romeo ran his fingers through his long hair. Guess it’s time for a trim. “I suppose I thought Wheels would be around forever. Stupid of me, or what?”

  Dax shook his head. “No. Not stupid. I always thought he’d be around too, but that’s what kids think, Rome, that life is forever.”


  “I didn’t want this shit.” He bowed his head. “This…responsibility.”

  Dax tapped a finger for emphasis on the table. “Wheels told me you had the most level head out of all of us. If anybody is fit to lead the Men of Hell, you are.”

  “Bullshit,” Romeo spat. “If that were true, then I wouldn’t have let Shepard spout his pretty little lies and convince those men out there of something better. I wouldn’t have been happy with the VP patch. I wouldn’t have drowned myself in fucked-up vices to cope.”

  Dax opened his mouth to fire back, but Romeo waved off the argument. No, he didn’t need Dax to blow smoke up his ass. He knew his faults were glaringly obvious—at least in his eyes. Doubts crept into his mind now as he tried to figure out just what to do about the disloyalty inside the club. Shepard’s supporters still grumbled the old president’s name when they thought Romeo couldn’t hear. In those moments, he wanted to let his rage out, but he knew bashing heads wasn’t the answer. Yet he couldn’t be soft, else he’d lose the tentative grip he had on the club.

  Other fully patched-in members entered the church and took their places around the concrete table. His VP, Boone Tempest, was the oldest member of the club, now that Shepard was dead, and that was the only reason he’d asked the man to be his right hand. Boone was a decent enough guy, big with sharp eyes that seemed to see everything. His ever-present shadow, Gabby Dixon, followed behind him. The man’s real name was Gordon, but he rarely ever said a word. Wheels had given him the ironic moniker of Gabby way back when, and the name had stuck. A scar ran from his temple to chin, but he never talked about it. The only thing Romeo understood was that the only person who knew anything substantial about the man was Boone. Romeo didn’t pry. Shit, they all had personal secrets.

  The patched-in members allowed to sit at the table were from all walks of life. The MOH Bair chapter didn’t discriminate. Burrito was Hispanic, Sioux was Native American and Hook was African American. Romeo didn’t care about the color of a man’s skin. It was a person’s integrity that counted. His gaze lingered on the club accountant, Cipher. It was time that fundamental principle was made crystal clear.

  The Brothers were quiet, and Romeo missed the joking and jostling from days gone by, when they’d had nothing else to worry about except the next drug run. When the last Brother had settled and looked toward him, he reluctantly sat in the goddamn chair and banged the gavel.

  “There are some pressing issues we need to deal with,” he began. He glanced at each man, meeting their stares head on. “Obviously, we need to find a new supplier. This club is flat broke. The only thing keeping us alive is the whorehouse, so unless someone can cough up the money Shepard stole, we need some fast cash soon.”

  He took a mental note of the glowers he received from Drifter and Bandit when he mentioned Shepard’s crime. Two more Shepard holdouts he put on his list.

  “I might know of a crack and snow source,” Boone, the vice president, said. “Believe it or not, from Canada. Straight up Interstate 29.”

  “Convenient,” Dax murmured. “We could get cheap Viagra while we’re up there.”

  The men laughed.

  Romeo held up a hand, silencing them all in an instant. “Who?”

  “A man calling himself Red Eye. It’s not meth, but I’ve heard his stuff is good, and the word is that he’s looking for a new distributing partnership.”

  Romeo frowned. Could they be that lucky? “Sounds too good to be true.”

  “That’s why we need to move now,” Boone replied. “If we get his shit, then we can blow the Shanks away. It’s far superior to the stuff they’re peddling.”

  “Whatever drug we run, we don’t use it,” Romeo reminded him. “I don’t want the Men of Hell turning into fucking junkies, got it?”

  The spot between Boone’s eyes creased as he frowned. “Of course.”

  Romeo relaxed and nodded. “All right. You’ll follow up with this Red Eye?”

  “Yes.”

  “Okay,” Romeo said. “All those in favor?”

  A chorus of ayes rang through the large, paneled room.

  “Passed,” Romeo said. “Now, the next thing I must bring up is Shepard.”

  He took notice of the way Drifter and Bandit stiffened, but they weren’t the fish he was after. Right now, he wanted the person who had helped in nearly leveling his club to the ground.

  “Cipher,” Romeo said, singling out the only biker at the table who didn’t ride often.

  The man preferred to stay behind his desk, sorting numbers. His bald, tatted head clashed with the image of his thick-framed glasses, and he also had the muscle tone more suited to someone of his numerical profession.

  “Boss?” Cipher questioned, hesitantly.

  “I still find it extremely difficult to believe that, as the treasurer, you had no idea that Shepard wasn’t channeling the money from the meth runs back into the club bank.”

  Cipher looked around the table. Sweat broke out on his upper lip as he met each gaze. “How was I to know? He told me there weren’t any funds to deposit.”

  “So you thought he was making these runs out of the goodness of his heart?”

  The members chuckled at the obvious sarcasm in his words, but Romeo ignored them to focus on Cipher’s tells. For a numbers man, he sure was lousy at poker.

  Cipher looked around wildly and his hand shook. “I thought he was breaking even.”

  “Breaking even?” Romeo surged to his feet.

  Cipher flinched and flickered a quick, desperate look at the door. It was then that Romeo knew for certain the accountant wasn’t playing legit or being truthful with him.

  “About one point six trillion dollars is laundered a year through drug trafficking, and you simply thought Shepard’s runs were coming up with nothing profitable?”

  He took his time to walk around the oval cement table, walking by each Brother one by one. Cipher watched him with wide eyes until he passed behind him. Romeo stopped and looked down at the man’s balding head and disgust filled him, leaving a sour taste in his mouth.

  “Hell, we used to make a nice little profit off marijuana back when it was still hip and cool, but Colorado fucked that trade route up for us, so we turned to meth. So, Cipher, I’m stymied on how someone so knowledgable with the books could possibly be so dumb to think I wouldn’t figure out you were working with him.”

  “No!”

  Cipher tried to stand, but Romeo slapped his hand against the back of Cipher’s head and smashed his face into the table. Romeo held Cipher down while he struggled to free himself from the vulnerable position, but Romeo had a lot more muscle on him. He kept the fucking traitor easily in place.

  “This is going to be a new club and I’m not a fucking nice guy anymore.” Romeo looked around to each member of the table. “If I learn you’ve disrespected the patch on your cut or have been disloyal to this club, I will cut off your balls and stuff them down your throat, before I put a bullet in your head. Understand?”

  Each man nodded to his warning–even Drifter and Bandit, although Romeo still reserved judgment as to whether they were simply playing along or if they truly agreed.

  “Dax, take Cipher to the garage. Secure him to one of the cherry pickers.”

  Dax stood and obeyed without question. He grabbed Cipher’s arms and marched him out of the chapel. Romeo gripped the back of the chair he hated so much and lifted it, bringing it with him as he followed Dax and Cipher. Slowly, one by one, each Brother trailed after him, and the other members and club whores hanging out in the clubhouse made room as they marched single file outside. They formed a parade line to the garage.

  When Romeo arrived at the open work bay, Cipher was bound to the cherry picker. His hands were chained over his head, and the tips of his shoes barely scraped the ground. Terror blanketed his face.

  “Please, boss,” he begged.

  “Please what?” he asked.

  Cipher stared at him. His mouth quivered just a little. “I thought
I had to be loyal to Shepard.”

  “Shut up,” Romeo ordered coldly. He set the chair down and turned to look at the men behind him. “From now on, this club is about loyalty to the patch, no matter who sits at the head of the table. Understood?”

  Once again, every man nodded.

  Romeo pulled out the fifteen-inch, double-edged switchblade he never went anywhere without. He sliced away Cipher’s cut and T-shirt to reveal his club tattoo on the right shoulder blade.

  He looked at Dax. “Hold him.”

  Dax put his arms around the thinner man and held on while Romeo brought his knife down to slice into the skin. Cipher screamed until Boone stepped forward and stuffed a bandana into his mouth. Still, through the cloth, he continued to howl. Tears coursed down his cheeks. Romeo didn’t give a flying fuck. He cut away the tattoo in a circular pattern, ignoring the blood that poured down Cipher’s back, the sharp blade peeling the flesh like going through butter. When he severed the last bit, he stepped back and held the bloody disc of skin up for all the members to see. Cipher finally stopped screaming, so he figured the man had passed out.

  “Traitors won’t have the luxury of blackening out their tattoos. I will cut them from their bodies, however big they may be.”

  He walked over to the chair and put the tattoo on the seat. Dax handed him a shop rag so he could wipe his red-soaked hands as clean as he could get them before pulling a name patch from his pocket. Broken threads outlined the rectangular piece of material and Romeo sneered at Shepard’s name embroidered on it. He spat on it then tossed it on top of Cipher’s dissected skin. Next, he grabbed a can of gasoline and poured it over the chair and its contents.

  “Burn it,” he told Dax.

  Dax pulled his lighter out of his pants pocket, set another shop rag on fire then tossed it on the chair. It lit up with a roar.